


Mango sands and the taste of her

by silvervelour



Series: Sun and love have six things in common [2]
Category: Canada's Drag Race RPF, RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: 70s lesbians, F/F, surfer lemon and lifeguard priyanka, very gay a lot of over the top flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26220394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvervelour/pseuds/silvervelour
Summary: Lemon doesn’t remember the first time that she ever went surfing.But she remembers the most recent.Because of the new life guard and her red swimsuit.It’s a warning siren in the distance, one that Lemon tells herself that she should probably avoid. It’s an attraction that’s dangerously sweet right from the get go, and Lemon knows that she runs the risk of drowning if she doesn’t pay attention to where she places her feet, or how far she drifts out towards the horizon. Her face feels hot in the direct light of the sun but she’s still unable to look away from the sands of the shoreline, where families and couples are huddled in groups.*It's 1976, and Lemon and Priyanka meet on a beach.
Relationships: Lemon/Priyanka (Canada's Drag Race RPF)
Series: Sun and love have six things in common [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903786
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	Mango sands and the taste of her

**Author's Note:**

> hi pals!! so,, I know I only wrapped up 70s fic yesterday, but I had to get this written as soon as I thought of it bc I couldn't just leave these gals have only their tiny cameo. 
> 
> it's short but I like it, feel free to let me know your thoughts!!!<3

Lemon doesn’t remember the first time that she ever went surfing.

But she remembers the most recent. 

Because of the new life guard and her red swimsuit. 

It’s a warning siren in the distance, one that Lemon tells herself that she should probably avoid. It’s an attraction that’s dangerously sweet right from the get go, and Lemon knows that she runs the risk of drowning if she doesn’t pay attention to where she places her feet, or how far she drifts out towards the horizon. Her face feels hot in the direct light of the sun but she’s still unable to look away from the sands of the shoreline, where families and couples are huddled in groups. 

Lemon notices her from the far out waves on one of the hottest days of the summer of _‘76_ , and catches her name from the group of teenage boys that have been surfing the waters near her since the beginning of the day. She toys with it - _Priyanka_ \- and pays extra attention to how she reclines in the seat of her watch tower. Priyanka smiles at the people who pass her by and raises her blue rimmed sunglasses to talk wherever she’s approached. Her hair is worked back into a high ponytail and it catches in the wind in the same way that Lemon’s breath hitches in her throat. 

Her feet are bare, but she lets her legs dangle from the platform that she’s sitting on. There’s a whistle, decorated with a yellow ribbon hung around her neck, and it matches the shade of her shorts that she has pulled on over her swimsuit. They're cut high up on her thighs, are snug around her waist, and Lemon would be lying if she said she didn’t chance more than a fleeting glance in her direction. She decides that she can allow herself the pleasure of simply looking when she’s been used to overly muscular men in their thirties, intimidatingly sat where Priyanka is now perched prettily

She tells her friend Juice about it when they meet for lunch the following week.

They settle on their usual spot - a shack called _Sakura_ \- and eat sushi and drink smoothies until Juice diverts their conversation. She jibes at Lemon for mentioning the new lifeguard one too many times, and then asks what’s so interesting about her when Lemon goes off on a tangent about her dark, wavy hair. Lemon can only answer honestly with her delusional self confidence, and she flips her hair behind her as she grins. Juice rolls her eyes at her, sips the dregs of her strawberry and kiwi smoothie while Lemon drums her pink painted nails against the wood of the table. 

“Lem-”. Juice shakes her head. 

“-No heterosexual can wear board shorts and make them look _good_ ”. 

And Lemon knows it already from the way that Priyanka had returned her gazes. Her eyes had followed Lemon when she’d emerged from the water, and had been glued to each droplet of water that had trickled down her body. Lemon had made a point of bunching her wetsuit around her waist, leaving her top half clad in only her bikini top, and it had been worth it to see how Priyanka had lowered her sunglasses, smirked at Lemon over the chunky rims of them. Lemon had also decidedly pushed her arms together to enhance her cleavage, and Priyanka hadn’t been subtle in the way she’d ogled her. 

Her eyes hadn’t been on Lemon’s necklace - gold, brandished with her name - and she knows it. 

“I know-”. Lemon beams. 

“-Just indulge me for a second, doll”. 

So Juice lets her talk, about Priyanka’s hair and her arms and her thighs. Lemon jokes about feigning an accident just to get the kiss of life from Priyanka but she’s quick to scrap the thought when Juice gives her a look that tells her it would be a bad idea. Juice laughs openly around a bite of seaweed, and when the afternoon becomes the evening, Lemon softens. She thanks Juice for her ears that are always willing to listen, and they part by the time that the sun sets with kisses to each other's cheeks and the promise that Lemon will get the girl. 

*****

Over the next two weeks Lemon makes her efforts known. 

And then the following week, she gives in. 

She ditches her wetsuit completely, and starts the day by paddling in the shallows in her yellow bikini. She aclimates her body to the temperature of the water while Priyanka heats her from the inside out, and makes a show of it every step of the way. Lemon surfs the waves easily even when they get a little rougher and she has to use more concentration to not tumble. She’s been surfing for years and it’s going to take more than the addition of one extremely attractive woman to throw her off of her game, even if she is unrelenting in how she taunts Lemon. 

It starts that first week, when Lemon walks by. Priyanka’s already looking at her, her sunglasses resting on the bridge of her nose, and she waits until Lemon is halfway to the water to blow her whistle. Lemon imagines the way that her lips wrap around it as it rings in her ears and when she turns around, hair whipping over her shoulder, Priyanka shoots her a wink. It’s small, subtle, but Lemon understands that for them, it’s overt. It makes her cheeks flush beneath her freckles, and she carries the feeling of being _wanted_ with her throughout the remainder of the afternoon. 

She smiles when the waves crash at her ankles, and when the sun begins to set on her. Priyanka is gone from her place on the watchtower by the time that she wraps herself in her towel, picks up her macrame tote bag that she’d left on the sand, and Lemon chuckles lowly. She walks back towards the apartment that she shares with her friend Rosé and when she gets there, she’s met with a knowing smirk from Rosé and her girlfriend Lagoona. Lemon dashes to her bedroom with a squeal but she doesn’t need to stick around for a second longer to know that the smile she wears upon her face is sickly sweet. 

It stays there until the next time that she visits the beach, her surfboard tucked under her arm. 

And then it drops. 

Because Priyanka isn’t sitting in her watchtower. 

Instead, she’s standing on the sand, leaning against the leg of it and sipping from a bottle of water. Her hair has been let down from its usual high ponytail, and sits on her shoulders in waves that rival the sea itself. Lemon’s first thought is that she wants to rake her fingers through them and she kicks herself for it as she toes off her shoes. She places them next to her bag that she’s laid on the floor, and makes sure that her flimsy sandals are weighed down by enough sand; she’s had some of them blow to the other end of the beach before and it’s not a fiasco that she’s keen on repeating. 

Priyanka isn’t wearing her usual yellow shorts either, and Lemon notes that she was right when she’d assumed that underneath, her thighs would be toned, strong. She stares at them as Priyanka adjusts from one foot to the other and then takes a step forward, closer to where she’s still leaning against the edge of the watchtower. Lemon almost teases her about not keeping an eye on the waters but decides that she isn’t about to risk the chance of losing Priyanka’s attention now that she’s so clearly got it. 

They mirror each other, almost. 

It’s all red compared to yellow, dark hair versus light, and Lemon thinks that together they’re a vision. Priyanka places her bottle of water back onto the ledge of the watchtower and then with a confident hand, grasps the whistle that’s hanging around her neck. She lifts it to her lips, blows it twice - quietly, intentionally - so that Lemon hears. Lemon arches an eyebrow at her when she drops the whistle back down, and then they’re both grinning. It feels like a look that shouldn’t be shared in broad daylight but when Priyanka winks at her in the same manner that she did the week prior, Lemon’s mind goes blank. 

“Looking good, baby doll”. Priyanka drawls. 

Her eyes traipse the length of Lemon’s body. 

It’s all of the confirmation Lemon needs to reciprocate. She hums affirmatively, shrugging off the cotton coverup that she’d worn for the walk from her apartment. Priyanka takes it from her with a gentle smile, and folds it over the arm of the watchtower. Lemon thanks her with another grin but doesn’t say anything more as she picks her board up, tucks it back under her arm. She gestures towards the water with a nod of her head, and then begins stepping backwards, tendrils of her hair getting caught in her line of sight. 

“Y’know-”. Lemon starts.

“-You might want to keep your eyes on everyone else, I’m perfectly safe, sweetie”. 

She walks away then, and if she’s smug about the way Priyanka’s jaw hits the floor, then it’s nobody's business but her own.

*****

Midway through her surfing session, Lemon takes a break. 

She spends it relaxing on a towel that she conveniently places near the watchtower, and slathers her skin in tanning oil beforehand. Priyanka whistles down at her once more as she does so and Lemon continues to feel smug for the hour that she lays there. She looks good, she thinks, catching a summer glow, and it’s as if she can feel Priyanka’s eyes connecting the dots between the freckles on the bridge of her nose and the ones that form clusters on her chest, circle around her navel.

“You should join me up here”. Priyanka offers. 

It’s when Lemon’s already on the way back to the water. 

But she likes the idea, and offers Priyanka a tilt of her head. She digs her teeth into her bottom lip, and then props her hip with a hand on her waist. Lemon knows that it leaves Priyanka with a view of her ass, framed by the sun, and she ensures to pull the waistband of her bikini bottoms higher to accentuate it. When she looks back again, Priyanka’s eyes are downcast, and she thinks that she’s keeping her promise to Juice of _getting the girl_. 

“Yeah!-”. She beams. 

“-Maybe!”.

 _Yes_. 

*****

Lemon does decide to join her. 

Eventually. 

It’s nearing the end of the day, and the tide is slowly coming in. It starts getting closer as the evening begins and when it does, lemon pulls her coverup back on. She dries her feet off on the towel that she’s stuffed into her bag, and then walks towards the small ice cream truck that’s parked on the nearby boulevard. Priyanka looks at her questioningly, but when Lemon returns less than five minutes later with two cups of ice cream, she’s full of smiles and welcoming waves. Her hair is glowing amber as the sky dips to pink and Lemon gratefully takes the hand that she holds out in order to be helped onto the platform that’s a little out of reach; Priyanka is _tall_ and Lemon likes it. 

“Lemon”. Lemon hands the cup over. 

“One of my favourites”. Priyanka grins. 

“Oh, no-”. Lemon snorts. 

“-My name’s Lemon, the gelato is mango”. 

They dissolve into hysterics that get lost in the waves. 

Priyanka tells her her name and Lemon blushes, tells her that she already knows. She smirks again around her plastic spoon and compliments Lemon on her choice of flavours. Lemon confesses that she had almost opted for the Lemon sorbet just for the irony but then begrudgingly admits that actually, lemons aren’t her favorite. Priyanka laughs at her, and then together they giggle about how close together they’re already pressed. The beach is almost empty and their thighs are flush against one anothers, glued together by the taffy of summer and the grains of sand that are inescapable. 

Once they finish the ice cream, their lips cold and their hands warm, Priyanka pulls her even closer. Their legs overlap, and Lemon doesn’t mind the way that the wood of the watchtower is rough beneath her because of how much softer Priyanka’s hands are. They rest on her hips, and with seconds of coaxing Priyanka convinces Lemon to straddle her, loop her arms around her neck. Priyanka reassures her that no one is watching but Lemon is so focused on Priyanka’s lips and how they’re going to feel against hers that she doubts she’d care even if the beach was full. 

Between lilacs and burgundies, they kiss. 

Then kiss again. 

Priyanka tastes like the mango gelato, and of the salt that’s always prominent in the sea air. Lemon leans into it and when they both let out small mewls of affirmation, she pulls away to draw in a breath. They keep kissing, Priyanka’s hands firm on her waist, and Lemon whines at the feeling of the pads of her fingertips that are cold from holding the ice cream cup. It’s a sharp contrast to the heat of her skin but Priyanka keeps making her hotter; her kisses migrate to Lemon’s neck and Lemon inhales deeply.

“When does your shift finish?”. Lemon questions. 

Priyanka simply chuckles, kisses at the shell of Lemon’s ear. 

“Two hours ago”. 

“Oh, you fucking _bitch_ ”. 


End file.
